The Coffin

The Deal

It all happened so quickly.

The king was a fat man, greedy and stupid. His parents had spoiled him terribly, never bothering to teach him how to control anything, not even a horse, certainly not a kingdom. Of course, he didn't do anything about the many many warnings. 

The warnings of the menace killing entire troops during night hunts. 

The ones who could escape their deadly grasp were horrifyingly few, and they cried of the impossible. 

What they all first mentioned was the monstrous size of their attacker, just in their slouch they dwarfed any of their species by feet, and they would have done so to humans by meters. From this alone grew the theory it was not human at all, it was their machinery. 

 What really nailed their suspicions were not the ten feet of it, not the long razor like knives that protruded from its fingers, but the legs. Long, long metallic legs with a kick like a horses, and a stomp that broke the ground, the movement of them was too fast, too agile to be even the most well trained caede.

 Even more impossible being its alleged resistance to their magic. 

This was a great concern among the court but all the king would open his mouth to do was demand more food.

Cillian began to hear that things were getting dangerous, but all he did was hear them. He was to guard the king and his family, and them only. 

But his loyalty to them specifically was not as strong as his loyalty to his kingdom. Treason it might have been, but when he saw the state of the gateway building, he was sure he would not get the chance to get charged with it.

......

It was pure chaotic bloodshed that for the first time in generations was fatal on both sides. Cillian was immersed immediately, killing as many humans as he could, almost flying above the ground as he jumped and ran elegantly to dodge the dozens and dozens of weapons. Weapons that gave strangely menacing hiss as they flew past him. 

But their were so many, no matter how many he slaughtered, more rushed in like red ocean waves in a violent storm, the numbers quickly overwhelming him as he fled to a thin empty corridor hidden by a curtain. He scolded himself for his cowardliness in such a dire situation, though he had no plans to go back out any time soon. He was stunned by numerous nameless emotions as he stood motionless, a numb tickle riding his spine.

Although suddenly, he was not alone in the dim darkness.

A bleeding man had fell through the cloth of the curtain seemingly by accident, though he gleamed in hope when he saw the purple fabric of Cillians coat.

"your- you, ah ,Guard of the king! Our savior! thank you, thank you- they're knives! They weaken us, our magic too you must save us bu-"  Cillian was still in paralysis,  barley able to listen to the mans mumbles of despair. He could only observe the light. Observe the blur of motion behind  the swaying curtains, observe the line of warm light illuminating the crimson gore from the soldier soaking his purple uniform to a pit of black.  Purple is a very expensive color. He was scolded when it was stained with dirt. Now it was stained with blood. That wouldn't not be so easy to wash out.

"your trained for this, your trained better than any of us, please, please, fight them!" The man yelled as he screamed in agony, but Cillian remained stood in shock, frozen in his place as he watched the man die in front of him along with so many others like him in the war behind the curtain. His vision was blurred  but he saw so much blue sink to the bottom, as if pebbles in water. Blue was the color of the armor of his people. 

"Fight them!" Soldiers screamed, the shrieks suddenly all around him, sounding so near despite the dreadful lonliness seeping like ice through his trembling bones. They begged him to halt their slow and painful deaths, to stop the knives stabbing them, the arrows impailing them, the feet suffocating them as they stomped on their necks. Their screams were deafening but he couldn't raise his hands to covers ears.